

msdu(m*x 





LIBRA?. OF CONGRESS. 



®lpp. 






ihelf. 



£**.>£ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



WAYSIDE FLOWERS 



A COLLECTION OF SHORT POEMS. 



By S. C. 




PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

188 i. 



k 



Cx I 



Copyright, 1880, by J. B. LlPPINCOTT & Co, 



TO 
THE MEMORY OK MY MOTHER, 

WHO HAS BEEN six YEARS IN HEAVEN, 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 

S. C. 
IJuavhk Falls. 1'a., 1880. 



CONTENTS. 



At Eventide . 












I'AGE 

9 


Years Gone v>y 










II 


The Angel of Home 












13 


What is Death? . 












15 


"If wk Faint not" 












17 


Departed Friends 












19 


In Mkmoriam .... 












21 


My Inheritance 












24 


Beyond .... 












27 


The Good Teacher 












29 


Salvation Now 












31 


Only a Beggar 












33 


The Rest that Remaineth 












36 


A Dream 












38 


Beyond the Stars 












4i 


Through much Tribulation 












43 


Waiting .... 












45 


A Thank-Offering 












46 


The Biri u of Christ . 












• 49 


Work and WARFARE 












5i 



C0NTEN1 



Light it Evening-time 

Yesterday, To-Day, and Fo 

a ( Ihristm is Poem 

•• wii \ r \k r Thou doin< 

Far from Home 

By rm River 

A 1.1 rii i While 

Unforgivrn 

Love's Gifts . 

In Memory's Fairy Hai 

i Drifted \r irt 

After many Days . 

Dead 

I'm. Parting Hour 

W IS i i ID \ v \us 

The Voice of Sorrow 
•• (Jnguessed" . 

BE Shi i. . 

Forget 

GOOD-BY . 

Too Late 
Summer pays . 
Nigh r Thoughts . 

Ar NJMN 1 >AYS . 

Nearer Home 



Y 1.1 



FE ?' 



CONTENTS. 



The Passing Vears 

The Joys of Old . 

Things fob Remembrance 

a Message 

a Losi Love . 

Forgiven 

Sunset .... 

A Summeb Reverie 

Fare Thee Well . 

To MlNNIK J. Owrey 

a Letter 

An Angel Visitant 

To the Memory of Rev. m 

In MEMORIAM . 

It is Well . 

TO THE M EMORY OF REV. T. 

To i in. Memory of Oub Lizz 
Past, Pbesent, and Fin uri 
The Way of the World 
Unheeded Voices . 
Life's Eventide 



Nak 



A. S 
ii 



PAGB 
113 

"5 
"7 
"9 
123 

125 
127 
129 
'3' 
133 
136 
140 

143 
'45 
'47 
149 

'5' 

'54 
'57 
160 
162 



AT EVENTIDE. 

Visions are before me flitting, 

As at eventide I'm sitting, 

In the gathering shades and stillness, 

Sitting, musing all alone, 
On the past that's vanished ever; 
On its treasures, lost forever ; 
And the days of grief and gladness 

Which so early I have known. 

Often have my feet grown weary 
Of a way so rough and dreary; 
For the path of life hath led me 

Through the depths of sorrow's vale ; 
While the darkness thickened o'er me, 
Till I scarce could see before me, 
In the distance dim, that Beacon 

Whose bright light can never fail. 

When again the sun would brighten, 
And its radiant beams would lighten 



AT EVENTIDE. 

With their splendor, that lone valley 
Which so dismal seemed before ; 
Then my soul, with rapture glowing, 
Drank the crystal waters flowing 
From a pure, a living Fountain, 

Where we drink, and thirst no more. 

O the joys and sorrows ended, 
O the light and darkness blended 
In the shadows and the sunlight 

That have fallen on my way ! 
Shades and earth-mist still so near me, 
Yet the sun above to cheer me, 
In Life's sure and strange succession 

Of alternate night and day ! 

Thus I journey forward ever ; 
And I hope for resting never 
Till the prize which I am seeking, 

I at last rejoicing hold : 
Onward, upward climbing slowly, 
Till I reach God's City holy, 
And at length, with feet unwearied, 

Tread its streets of burnished gold. 



YEARS GONE BY. 

Enthralled by some mysterious power, 

And blind to blessings ever nigh, 
Too lightly do we prize to-day, 
And from the present turn away, 
To live in some long-vanished hour ; 
As if our feet must always stray 

In beaten paths of years gone by. 

When, one by one, earth's joys depart, 
We gaze with wondering, tearful eye; 

Then, with each treasure, in the grave 

Hide all the pleasure that it gave ; 

The parting pang clasp to our heart, 

The only relic that we save, — 

A mournful thought of years gone by. 

And thus we cherish but the woe 

We feel to see our dear ones die ; 
Nor ever seem to sacred hold 
The happy scenes of days of old, 



12 YEARS GONE BY. 

The brighter side of long ago, 
The boundless joy, the bliss untold, 

That friendship brought in years gone by. 

If in yon churchyard, still and lone, 
In dust the love of youth must lie, 
There too should disappointment sleep, 
Nor buried sorrow cause to weep : 
The power to love is'still our own, 
For love is ours, and ours to keep, 

From all the wreck of years gone by. 

Our lives of Life's best good we cheat : 

We choose to mourn, and this is why 
We seek so oft the lonely tomb, 
And linger there, while roses bloom 
Along the pathway near our feet ; — 
Fair flowers that yield as sweet perfume 

As buds that bloomed in years gone by. 

Ne'er haunted by a memory sad, 

The heart can sing instead of sigh, 
That low entombs through changing years 
The burden of its moans and tears, — 
Holds all of life that makes life glad, 
While not a shade of gloom appears 
To dim the light of years gone by. 



THE ANGEL OF HOME. 

Often we our eyes are raising, 
Heavenward intently gazing, 

In the idle hope that we 
May the spirit forms discover, 
Which around our pathway hover ; 

May our heavenly guardian see. 

While, to meet our earnest longing, 
Never Angel-band comes thronging 

Up before our raptured sight ; 
Veiled our vision is from seeing 
The celestial, saintly being 

Ever near us, day and night. 

Round her brow no halo, beaming, 
Marks her with a heavenly seeming, 

To our strangely earth-bound eyes ; 
As she, bent on mission holy, 
'Mid the suffering, poor and lowly, 

Moves, an Angel in disguise. 

2* 



14 



THE ANGEL OF HOME. 

Yes, she is an Angel, keeping 
Vigils lone when we are sleeping ; 

Guarding with such tender care, 
Through the night-hours, long and dreary, 
Souls that she is never weary 

Of remembering in prayer. 

And her glance our path is scanning, 
While her busy brain is planning, 

As she sees the gathering haze, 
How with softest spell to charm us 
From some hidden snare to harm us, 

In Life's dangerous, mystic maze. 

Could the bright-winged host above us 
With more pure devotion love us, 

With more care our footsteps guide ? 
Shall our eyes be closed forever, 
Shall our hearts be opened never, 

To the Seraph by our side ? 

When earth's lights are dimmed and faded; 
When we walk with brow unshaded 

'Neath the blue of Heaven's high dome, 
We shall see that earth-mist clouded — 
All the spirit-beauty shrouded 

Of the Angel in our home. 



WHAT IS DEATH? 

Say, what is Death ? The soul would fain, 
Ere it the solemn pass would try, 

Know what of pleasure, or of pain, 
Is treasured in the words, to die. 

O what is Death ? Is it to ford 

A stream we tremblingly draw nigh, 

To stand in presence of the Lord, — 
Can this be what it is to die? 

O what is Death? Do Angel-hands 

The fetters of the soul untie, 
And loose the captive from its bands, 

And set it free: is this to die? 

O what is Death? Do fingers soft 

The heart's beat still, and close the eye, 

While the immortal mounts aloft 
To purer life: is this to die? 

i5 



1 6 WHAT IS DEATH? 

If it should be our loved ones come 
From mansions far beyond the sky, 

To bear us to that better home, 
Ah, then it must be sweet to die ! 

But hush, my spirit ! calm await 

The certain summons from on high ; 

And, passing through Death's open gate, 
Know surely all it means to die. 



"IF WE FAINT NOT." 

If some golden dream, by Fancy cherished, 
From our vision swiftly fades away ; 

If Hope's buds, in blossoming, have perished, 
Withered in the warmth of Spring's bright day, 

Must we sit with folded hands, repining, 
Like a mourner by the lonely tomb, 

With the noonday sun above us shining, 
While the earth is clad in Summer bloom? 

If some cup of sweetest joy, untasted, 
From our lips is dashed in early years, 

Must the precious boon of life be wasted 
In complaints and unavailing tears? 

Ah ! our work, all wisely planned and meted, 

Lies before us, scarcely yet begun ; 
And we know it must be well completed 

Ere the solemn setting of the sun. 

17 



iS "IF WE FAINT NOT." 

Faint of heart are they who sink despairing 
When first wounded in the bitter strife ; 

Nobler far are they who, bravely daring, 
Face, unflinching, all the ills of life. 

Every heart has many a care and burden ; 

And the cross would crush the spirit down, 
Could Faith's eye behold no promised guerdon ; 

Did we not "hold fast" to win the crown. 

Then still strive, although the path seem dreary; 

Onward press, nor wait to idly weep : 
They who sow in tears, nor faint, nor weary, 

In due season rich reward shall reap. 



DEPARTED FRIENDS. 

Oh, how I miss, from day to day, 
Companions who have passed away ! 
My heart in earnest, mournful tones 
Calls for the dear departed ones. 

Some were the friends of early years, 
Who shared my childish hopes and fears, — 
My school-day friends, loved well and long,- 
Gone hence to join the spirit throng. 

And some I only lately met ; 
The parting followed soon ; and yet 
Their memory evermore to me 
A pleasing, broken dream shall be. 

Mother, perchance thy home is far 
Beyond each distant, shining star : 
We oft look up with longing eyes, 
But catch no glimpse of Paradise. 

19 



20 DEPARTED FRIENDS. 

And yet 'tis sweet to think that thou 
Art sometimes with us even now ; 
Who knows ? thy spirit oft may come 
And linger near our earthly home. 

My friends in Heaven ! I know that ye 
Are lost to some : not so to me ; 
The mortal rests beneath the sod ; 
While the immortal dwells with God. 

To me ye never seem so dead 
As they in worldly paths who tread, 
Nor seek, nor ever hope to live 
The life that Jesus died to give. 

Yes, they are dead, who live in sin, 
And fail eternal life to win ; — 
Dead now, and soon, alas ! shall know 
The "Second Death" in all its woe. 

Then, sorrowing heart, lament no more 
The absent, who have gone before, 
Who wait to welcome us to Heaven, 
Where bonds of love are never riven. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Angel guards a watch are keeping 
O'er the clay that now is sleeping 
In the lone and quiet city, 

Ever sacred to the dead ; 
Where, with stricken hearts we laid thee, 
After loving hands arrayed thee 
For the long unbroken slumber 

In the tomb, — that peaceful bed. 

Oft to thee our thoughts will wander, 

As in solitude we ponder 

On the friends so fondly cherished, 

Who, like thee, have gone before ; 
Then the curtain rises slowly, 
And reveals those mansions holy 
In the land beyond the River 

Where we meet to part no more. 

In that home where dwell our sainted, 
By the stain of sin untainted, 

3 21 



22 IN MEM0R1AM. 

Clad in robes of spotless beauty, 
Mother, I can see thee now ; 
While the rays of glory streaming 
From the Throne are on thee beaming, 
Lending an unfading splendor 
To the crown upon thy brow. 

Were the mists of error scattered, 
All our idols' temples shattered, 
What a host of Saints, of Angels, 

Our astonished eyes might view, 
Sent on mercy's ministrations 
From celestial habitations ; 
Watching o'er us, caring for us, 

Doubtless praying for us too ! 

Mother, Heaven still draws nearer, 
And the loved ones there grow dearer, 
Nearer, dearer to the pilgrim 

Who, with weary feet, to-day, 
But with faith and hope unshaken, 
Treads the rugged path forsaken 
By the wise who journey thither 

In a broader, smoother way. 

There's a sweet, a solemn gladness 
Strangely blended with the sadness, 



IN MEMORIAM. 

When the wounded, sorrowing spirit, 

Thus bereft and all alone, 
Turns at last from earth to Heaven, 
Where no ties are ever riven j 
Where the bitter pain of parting, 
Never, never shall be known. 



23 



MY INHERITANCE. 

I have no treasures on the earth ; 

No heritage below I claim ; 
In humble life, of humble birth, 

I cannot even boast a name. 

Unlearned in science and in art ; 

Amongst the wordly-wise unknown ; 
Uneducated, save in heart, 

And taught in Heaven's lore alone :- 

In an obscure and quiet way, 

Unnoticed only by a few, 
I live and labor day by day, 

In lowly paths my work to do. 

And yet I here no want shall know j 
No lack of good shall ever see ; 

Whate'er I need the while below. 
Already is secured to me. 

24 



MY INHERITANCE. 

The gracious Father's willing hand, 

For all His children spreads a hoard ; 
The best provision in the land, 
His bounteous table doth afford. 



He also clothes them at his cost, 
And shelters them from storm and rain ; 

Keeps constant watch that none be lost ; 
From wanderings brings them home again. 

Possessions vast are mine above ; 

I have indeed a precious claim 
To wealth in God's eternal love, 

And in the Book of Life a name. 



A king my Elder Brother is, 

And mighty nations own His sway ; 

Dominions, thrones, and powers are His, 
And countless worlds His laws obey. 

And in His glory I shall share — 

O wondrous thought, yet fixed and sure !■ 
Joint heir with Him, the Father's Heir 

To crowns and kingdoms that endure. 
3* 



25 



2 6 MY INHERITANCE. 

With an inheritance like this, 

Beneath my feet the world I cast, 

And forward press to reach the bliss 
That through eternity shall last. 

My Father, God ! Thou who dost give 
This goodly heritage to me, 

Teach me each day of life to live 
So that I best may honor Thee. 



BEYOND. 

Beyond the broad curtain of blue, 

Well hidden from curious eyes 
That gladly its glory and beauty would view, 

Our heavenly heritage lies. 

Beyond the rich, star-jewelled dome, 

Beneath which we wondering stand, 
Is the City Celestial, the saint's final home, 

In Canaan, the long-promised land. 

Beyond where, in setting, Life's sun 

Crowns with crimson the hills of the West, 

When the journey is done, when the day's race is run, 
Is the clime where the weary find rest. 

Beyond the deep waters and wide, 

That ever in Death's channel roll, 
And onward so ceaselessly, silently glide, 

Is the future abode of the soul. 

27 



2 8 BEYOND. 

Beyond ! and we wait, for the day 
That a future so fair shall unfold, — 

Till the veil that conceals it is taken away, 
And the " land afar off" we behold. 



THE GOOD TEACHER. 

Ages past there lived a Teacher, 

In a distant, Eastern clime, 
Who, unlike the modern preacher, 

Wavered not, nor changed with time; 
Lived a life so pure, so holy, 

No reproach e'er stained His name ; 
Mingled with the poor and lowly, 

Heedless both of praise and blame. 

He the only path to Heaven, 

Clearly showed to fallen man ; 
Told of peace, and sin forgiven ; 

Taught salvation's wondrous plan ; 
Plainly pointed out the errors 

Which abounded in His day ; 
Painted Hell and all its terrors, 

In a strangely fearless way. 

Yet His words of kindness spoken, 
Cheered and comforted the sad ; 

29 



3° 



THE GOOD TEACHER. 

Healed the heart by sorrow broken, 
Made the mourning spirit glad : 

O, a sweetly mystic power 

Seemed to dwell in all He said, 

Strange as in the solemn hour 
When to life He called the dead ! 

Down the ages intervening 

Comes each fitly-spoken word, 
Fraught with all the depth of meaning 

That it bore when men first heard : 
Thus the holy, heavenly Preacher, 

By these sacred truths sublime, 
Shall be man's unerring Teacher 

Even till the end of time. 



SALVATION NOW. 

Not in the dying hour, 

Not in eternity, 
From sin's degrading power 

Doth Christ His people free ; 
Not then He breaks the hateful chain, 
And from the soul removes the stain. 

Why 'neath the heavy yoke 

Of bondage longer bow ? 
He who the thraldom broke, 

Offers you freedom now j 
And 'tis a glorious liberty 
Wherewith the captive is made free. 

Called, from the paths of vice ; 

Chosen, to holiness; 
Bought with a wondrous price, 

Pardoned and blest with peace ; 
Walking in ways that Jesus trod, 
The heirs of grace, the sons of God. 



32 



SALVATION NOW. 

Praise unto Him, that He 

Hath this salvation given ; 
Made rebels, such as we, 

Inheritors of Heaven ; 
Praise that from sin He thus would save, 
And give us life beyond the grave ! 



ONLY A BEGGAR. 

Only a beggar, so sick and so sore, 
At the gate of the rich, but not at the door; 
And he feels the glance of each scornful eye, 
As the proud and forgetful still pass him by. 

Only a beggar ! 
There in pain and want he must lie. 

Only a beggar ! No brother outpours 
Even small store of ointment to cover his sores: 
More kindness the dogs on the street may have shown 
To the outcast, so helpless and friendless and lone ; 

Only a beggar, 
And man can unmoved hear his piteous moan. 

Only a beggar, just left at the gate, 
For the crumbs that fall from the table to wait ; 
No nearer the door of the house he hath been, — 
The threshold of plenty, and grandeur, and sin ; 

Only a beggar, 
And what right hath he to be gazing in ? 

4 33 



34 ONLY A BEGGAR. 

Only a beggar in lowliness born ; 

The fragments are gathered and seasoned with scorn, 

And fed to the cripple by poverty laid 

At the gate in raiment all tattered arrayed \ 

Only a beggar ! — 
But beggars for taunts and jeers are made. 

Only a beggar ! 'Twas well that he died, 
No more to be trod 'neath the foot of dull pride ; 
No more in such wretched and low estate, 
Flung dole of crumbs that are left by the great ; 

Only a beggar, 
No longer to sigh at the rich man's gate. 

Only a beggar, when down from above 
Came the beautiful Angels of Pity and Love, 
And, leaving behind them the vile rags he wore, 
To dwellings celestial the suffering one bore ; 

Only a beggar ! 
At the King's royal palace he enters the door. 

Ah ! never for charity there shall he plead, 
For his is a heritage goodly indeed, 
Where he sings the new song clad in garments of white 
Lo ! afar hear a voice wailing out on the night, 

11 Only a beggar, 
A splendor-crowned prince in the City of light !" 



ONLY A BEGGAR. ^ 

Many a beggar, while treading earth's sod, 
May have for a portion the kingdom of God ; 
And in his possession a title may hold 
To mansions of glory, and treasures untold : 

Only a beggar — 
With durable riches, far better than gold ! 



THE REST THAT RE MAI NET H. 

In the land of the blest there remaineth a rest 

For the pilgrim so weary to-day ; 
But the cross must be borne ere the crown can be worn : 

We shall rest at the end of the way. 

And oft thro' long years do we water with tears, 

The path in our wanderings trod ; 
A\ T liile without and within comes the conflict with sin, 

Till we reach the fair City of God. 

Once, by sickness distressed and by earth-care oppressed, 
When my spirit was wounded and sore, 

Came visions all strange, of Death's wonderful change, 
And I thought of life's trials no more. 

Each heart-throb was stilled, and my bosom was filled 

With a holy, a heavenly peace ; 
While the soul clad in clay, from its fetters that day, 

Seemed calmly awaiting release. 
36 



THE REST THAT REMAINETH 37 

But the race was not run, and the crown was not won ; 

Yet with joy that a foretaste was given, 
I journey along with the homeward-bound throng, 

To the rest that remaineth in Heaven. 



A DREAM, 

Nw, 1 did not think that the loved wore lost. 
Who had passed from earth and Time; 

1 know when the stream o( Death was crossed 
They had reached a sunny clime. 

Yet my spirit was wrapped in a shroud of gloom 

All the sweetness oi lite had tied ; 
And I vainly cried to the heedless tomb 
To give me back its dead. 

At last — in a dream — the loved ones came 

From the distant, happy shore ; 
And 1 heard them fondly speak my name 

As they did in years before. 

"With a inner joy, with a glad surprise 

That words can never express, 
I looked once more in my mother's eyes, 

Divine in their tenderness ! 

;S 



// DREAM. 



V) 



And I walked again in the dear old ways, 

Willi the ti usted friend of my heart, 

And talked with her of the lonely days 
We had been so far apart. 

And one so mourned, SO missed Al), well ! 

As of yore he stood by my side, 
And told the sweet tale that a lover should tell 

To none but his ehosen bride. 

lint there dawned a day when my life's blood chilled, 
And I moaned, and gasped for breath; 

And every sound in my chamber was stilled, 
Save a whispered word of " heath." 

They said that an Angel throng had come 

From a beautiful world on high, 
To bear me away to that better home : 

They meant that I must die ! 

And Oh, to be called from Love's kind embrace 

To that far off spirit-land, 
To meet not the gaze of a friendly face, 

Nor the grasp of a kindred hand : 



\o 






Where the car would listen to voices strange, 

And the footsteps wander alone ; 
How my soul recoiled from the awful change, 

And I olreaded the great unknown | 

' Twas a dream ; and yet, with such meaning fraught 

It is as a treasure to-dav ; 
And a light and joy to my life are brought 
That never can \\u\c awa\ . 

And now by the eye oi Faith 1 may see. 
Through the gates o( the City of Love, 

The missed from earth, who are watching for me 
In the mansioned house above. 



And daily to Heaven, my home, shall aseend 
The voice o( thanksgiving and prayer, 

While kindred, a mother, a lover, a friend. 
Are waiting to welcome me there. 



BE VOX D TH E ST A KS. 

The moon sends down her silver rays, 
Awl here and there a star is sen 
That sparkles 'mid the dazzling sheen 
Upward with longing eyes J gaze, 
While thought and fancy traverse ways 
Beyond the range of vision, —far 
Beyond the farthest glimmering star. 

I heard In childhood of a clime, — 
A sunny clime with shady how 
A land of fairest fruits and flon 

Of sights and sounds and songs sublime ; 

Beyond the boundary line of Time 
The land of olden story li< 
Its sweetest name is Paradise. 

Awl in that Country we are told 

A fair eternal City stands, — 
A City builded not with hands : 



1' 



42 



BEYOND THE STARS. 

Whose gates and walls of pearl and gold 
With splendor burn ; and so of old 

They were, and shone, ere man was made, 
Or earth's foundation-stones were laid. 

There is the palace of the King 

Who sits upon a great white throne 
And reigns in majesty alone: 

While all His subjects tribute bring ; 

And seraphim of many wing, 

Before Him, in the sac- red place, 
With reverence veil their feet and face. 

There is the Temple of all lands, 

Where prayer and praise as sacrifice, 
Like mist of fragrant incense rise; 
While clad in royal vestment stands 
The great High Priest, who in His hands 
The censer holds. Behold, with awe, 
King, Priest, and Prophet of the Law ! 

O clay-bound spirit, stay thy flight ! 
Nor dare in thought to enter now 
Where veiled the shining seraphs bow 

In presence of the God of light. 

It is not meant for mortal sight : — 

Thine eyes such glory shall behold 
When Time's broad curtain back is rolled. 



THROUGH MUCH TRIBULATION. 

Oft my feet are very sore and weary 

Wandering in life's rugged, thorny way; 

And the desert journey seems so dreary, 
That I fain would see the closing day. 

He who made us citizens of Heaven 

Says, "Depart, for this is not your rest." 

Points us to that home where rest is given 
In the many mansions of the blest. 

We on earth at best are strangers only 
Passing to the better land above, 

Through a wilderness oft dark and lonely : 
Lit, at times, by Everlasting Love. 

When I see the fiery pillar hover 

Near me, still I know that it is night ; 

Know that while I thus the way discover, 
Darkness makes the need of guiding light. 

43 



,.j THROUGH MUCH TRIBULATION 

God alone doth know the heavy losses 
Which my heart and life alike sustain, — 

AH the burden oi the cares and crosses 
Which have bowed me 'neath their weight o( pain. 

•• Father, God !" the stricken soul is crying, 
Longing bark unto its home to go 
When earth's latest hope is withered, dying, 
When life's taper here bums dim and low. 

Though the world when grievous ills betide me, 
Failing to discern the chastening rod, 

Thinking that I murmur, mueh may elude me, 
'Tis the world that ehides, and not my God. 

And to know that He with tender pity 
Pities, loves me with a love divine, 

Cheers the path to that celestial City 

Where a blissful endless lite is mine. 



WAITING. 

"AFTER the storm a calm," they say: 

The winds may blow, and the rain may pour, 

But we wait for the light of a golden day 

When the rifted clouds shall drift away, 
And, after the rain, return no more. 

In the time of battle we look above, 

Through mist and heavy smoke, for we know 
With the olive-branch, from the land of love, 
Shall come the beautiful white-winged dove, 

And Peace shall reign in the world below. 

Each heart has a trial scene in life, 

When good Angels whisper, " Be patient, endure, 
(Till the tempest is stilled, and the bitter strife.) 
And 'mid the loud din and discord rife, 

" Be silent, and keep your garments pure." 



45 



A THANK-0 FFE R [NG, 

In the valley of Affliction, 

When l to its depths descended, 

Ere the houi of darkness ended, 
Found my soul a benedict ion 

'Mul the gloom o( deepest night. 
There unerring wisdom taught me 

1 low the meek and poor in spii it, 

I'.u ili and I [eaven shall inherit : 

Thus the night of sorrow brought me 
To the dawn of clearer liffht, 



While no heart hath vainly striven 
With its lone, impatient grieving, 
With its fears and unbelieving, 

l o\ ing kindness hath forgiven, 
Ami .i i ighteousness supplied : 

All the needed grace bestowing ; 
( Granting many a precious token 
Th.it no pledge shall e'ei he broken 

ho the trembling doubter showing 
E> ei \ promise pi oved when 1 1 ied 

1 6 



A THANK OFFERING 

To I he temple, where we gal her 

Willi the voice of j<>y and singing, 

Would I come, .in offei in;', bringing 

To i In- universal Fat hei 

Whom we seek to worship there: 
One who, perfect made through suffering, 

In tin- < (jiu ts above is pleading, 

For 1 1 is ransomed interi eding, 
s.i i m I ifies ea< li humble offering, 

And presents il with I lis prayer. 

For such mercy, ri( li and tender ; 

For the goodness never failing ; 

Foi t In- prayer in I [eaven availing, 
I ,ord, to Thee whal shall I rendei , 

When I meet Thee in Thy house? 

In our days of high < minimi in in 

show me hovv to most adore Thee 

When Thy people ( ome before Thee, 

As in sweel and sa< red union 

Wc again would pay our vows 

Still to Thee my hands are rea< hing, 
And I ask the Spirit's guiding, 
Thai in faith and truth abiding, 

Ever mindful of I lis tea* hing, 



47 



48 



/ ///./. \ A OFFERING, 



l may ordei nil my ways. 
While i bow, abased and lowly, 

i [ear nay fervent lupplicationj 

\ml accept the dedication ; 
i et my life work, earnest, holy, 

Be .i Ba< i ifice *>i pi. use. 



r II E B l kill OF en R 1ST. 

( ) WONDROUS Bighl I 

As humble Bhepherd i wat< l> theii flo< 1. 1 by nighl , 
They Bee, in splendoi <>i < 1 lesl ial light, 
An Angel from ili<' uppei skies appear ; 
The Bhepherda gaze w ith blended awe and fear, 
While he draws neai ■ 

N;iy, fear ye not ; 
For, lo ! glad 1 idinga unto you are brought 
The greal redemption God foi man hath wrought 

Tin- i line 1 hat was foretold is now begun ; 
A holy ( Ihild i:; born, ill - ' promised ( )ne, 
A virgin's Son. 



Willi bursl oi song, 
Whose numbers n < » w exult ingly along, 
All suddenly d<-,. ends a radiant throng ; 
For I Ceaven, rejoi< ing, sends a 1 hoii to earl It, 
T<» < elebrate with voi< e oi sacred mirth, 
Messiah's birth. 

I- 



y 



.»' / /;' ( '/• ( 7/A'/.V /'. 

iiir \ ears roll onj 
\n, i generations vast have « ome and gone, 
Sm. e Angela heralded that morning's dawn ; 
i ook we hi vain to fai [udea's plain 
Foi shining foi ma ' foi heavenly musii '•- strain 
I list w e id \ •mi ? 



1 K> c.u nosl v) cs 
With hopeless longing watch the Eastern Bkies 
i\> see the stai I hat shone to guide the w tse, 
WhO| worshipping the Babe ol Bethlehem, 
Decked thus His bro^ with kinglj diadem 
01 pi,-, ious gem ? 

Blest, hoi) moi n, 
That i* 1 the world revealed •> Savioui born ! 
His stai Bhall evermore the Heavens adorn, 
\ iui Eastei n Bages still dun homage bring, 
i m costly gifts, and thankful offei ing, 

To ( 'in ist oui King . 

While lips unfold 
The Btrange, sweet Btorj that with |oj is told 
Kmin Mgo to Arc. yet nevei can grow old : 
l*o he. u the '■ Pew e on earth, to men good will," 
Glad hearts, till rime shall be no more, may still 
With rapture fill, 



work A N \> vv a R F ARE 

frail and fleeting i 

vv<- ;n<; beingi of 
Au'l the houri are fai too p 

To be I'll/ dreamed a 
Mu' li of work and warfare waiting 

Earnest a< tion, < areful thought, 
[g tli<- urgenl ( .-ill to duty, 

liy the many heeded not . 

i . . i . are waited in endeavoi 
'I " unfold -'I. k heme designed 

To display God's love and fusti< e, 
In redeeming losl mankind. 

Wi'.'-r they who, liurnMy Seeking, 

Find the yery Truth they need ; 
And a living faith is bettei 

'J ban a long, well worded creed 

Sim t ' he w&i of good and evil, 
Dating from the fall of man, 



> 






WOUA VZ> WAh \h 

When the dark and dreadful confli< i 
I it-. i in Eden fail began, 

K\ ei mi the w 01 Id's sad liistoi 5 . 
1 landed do\> n from age to age, 

Soi row . Sin, and l v.uii. ha> e wi itten 
i L.i\ \ lines on e> ei \ page, 

liu'. Is oi the pasl recorded ? — 

I ook w e e\ en now abi oad \ 
l o, i he \\ hole ( real Ion gi oaning 

•Neath the aw ful » urse ol God ' 
Still the world's \ lie pun* e is claiming 

Eai th*s dominion as his own, 
Ami w ill reign till b) Messiah 

1 \c is spoiled and overthrown. 

1 u the solemn st rife ol i 

Neutral none can hope to be 
Multitudes around us pel ish, 

\iul across the might) sea 
Comes the ci j ol wear) captives 

Souls in Satan held in thrall i 
Still \\\^'^ the •■in ol Me 

\ . of old, the curse shall fall. 



Shorl foi each the time ol sei \ i< e 
In the cause of nuth and i ighl : 



WORK and WARFARE 

80011 foi ui ihall day be ended i 
Lei us laboi in the light 
1 r may the fearful irarl 
Willi the powers oi 1 ril i ease, 

'I ill the full and final triumph 

Of the gloi ious Pi in< e of Pea< e I 






LIGHT AT EV EN [NG-TIME. 

In tlio ancient Church, 

When the zeal o\ the many was burning low, 

And the Temple worship was pomp anil show. 
The remnant still offered a prayer sincere, 
Thai the Lord oi the Temple would soon appear. 

In the fulness of time 
He eame ; ami the Lamb oi Cod was slain ; 
Then the veil oi the Temple was rent in twain, 
For the mission oi Jewish priests was o'er, 
Ami the blood oi beasts was required no more. 

It was long ago ; 
And back through ages we look to-day 
To Christ, the new and the living wa\ ; 
The Light oi the world, who salvation brought 
To His own. — and His own received Him not! 

And the nations sit 
In darkness, and grope in the noontide still ; 
And the City so favored, and set on a hill, 
54 



LIGHT AT EVENING TIME. 55 

Shed i a waning glory, now pale and dim ; 
While faint is the sound of her sacred hymn. 

Not ( lear, and not dark, 
Is the light of the long < louded day to the sight 
Of God's people, who often may think it is night, 
And, longing for daybreak, look eastward in vain 
For the sunlight to burst over hill-top and plain. 

For over the world 
Have error and sin spread a mist that conceals 
The truth which the gospel so plainly reveals; 
As the vapor that hangs between earth and the skies, 

At times hide:, the radiant sun from our eyes. 

But down through the gloom 
Comes a wonderful promise, to comfort and cheer 
The soul of the watcher it gladdens to hear; 
In the twilight of evening to earth shall be given 
The brightness of morning, the sunshine of Heaven ! 

The promise is sure ; 
Even now may the gracious fulfilment be near, 
Though the darkness is deepening year after y 
The faith growing weaker that once was so strong, 
And the cry still ascending: "Jehovah, how long?" 



5 6 LIGHT AT EVENING-TIME. 

God knoweth the time ; 
His hand must subdue the dread powers of sin, 
Ere Messiah's blest reign shall in triumph begin ; 
When Zion exalted in beauty shall be, 
And in garments of praise keep her glad jubilee. 

So we pray and wait, 
And oft in the fair-visioned future behold 
The glorious age by the prophets foretold, 
When truth, with a halo all pure and divine, 
In the eventide of the Church shall shine. 



YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOR- 
EVER. 

The joys that crowned life's latest year, 

Passed with the year away ; 
And all the hopes to us so dear, 
Have vanished ; yet for them no tear 

Bedims the eye to-day ; 
Faint traces only now remain 
Of bygone pleasure, or of pain ; 
For ere the passing scene is gone, 
Fresh hopes and fears come crowding on. 

The friends of yesterday are cold, 

Not false : we grow apart : 
And even while we mourn the old, 
New friends are waiting near to hold 

A place within the heart. 
For these a smile ; for those a sigh ; 
Glad welcome after sad good-by ; 

6 57 



58 YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOREVER. 

And soon, with all its shade and light, 
The present hides the past from sight. 

Awhile we say : " 'Tis better so ;" 

There is a charm in change, 
Till, weary of the change below, 
No longer joyfully we go 

To meet the new and strange. 
There comes a longing, earnest, deep, 
For bliss that may be ours to keep : 
With transient good unsatisfied, 
We crave the good that shall abide. 

From crumbling idols formed of clay, 

We turn to hear the name 
Of One on whom our souls can stay; 
Of One who, yesterday, to-day, 

Forever, is the same ; 
Then with that never-failing Friend 
We walk till Time with us shall end, 
And trust the hand alike that leads 
In desert paths and verdant meads. 

The world's wild tossings to and fro, 
No more our souls can move. 

Earth's treasures perish : let them go ! 

What matter, since that name we know, 
All other names above ? 



YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND FOREVER. 59 

The gloom and glory of the Cross, 
Can darken gain, and brighten loss ; 
And whether good or ill befall, 
The changeless Christ is all in all. 



A CHRISTMAS POEM. 

When looking back o'er Eighteen hundred years, 
All faintly seen through mist and shade of earth, 

In brightness clad, a seraph form appears, 
With glorious tidings of Messiah's birth. 

And while with hearts as glad to-day we hear, 
As when in childhood listening to each word 

That told the wondrous story, year by year, 

In Christian lands and Christian dwellings heard, - 

Yet with our joy a solemn sadness blends: 

And ever and anon afar we gaze, 
And view the earth, to its remotest ends, 

Enshrouded still in sin's bewildering haze. 

Lo ! darkness thicker than Egyptian, now 
Covers the Gentile world, where nations vast, 

To wood and stone in homage blindly bow, 
As in the deepest night of ages past. 
60 



A CHRISTMAS POEM. 6 1 

No king a sceptre sways on Judah's throne, 
And Israel wanders, scattered far and wide ; 

Their Prince despised, rejected by His own, 
Who live as if for them " no Christ had died." 



What of the ransomed flock, the Church of God 3 
The fair and spotless Bride, the chosen one, 

Bought from among all nations with the blood 
Of God's eternal well-beloved Son? 



The gold is dim ; the most fine gold is changed ; 

Defiled in dust the robes with needle wrought : 
And Zion is from early love estranged, 

Nor mourns her state : alas, she knows it not ! 

From olden paths so many turn aside, 
And unbelief flows in a widening stream. 

O why did daring hands so soon divide 
A sacred vesture woven without seam? 



It is not strange that 'mid the din of " swords 
Wrought out of iron creeds," when many do 

But darken counsel in the strife of words, 
The false is oft mistaken for the true. 
6* 



62 A CHRISTMAS POEM. 

It is not strange that earnest Christian men, 
With vision dimmed, read promise of an hour 

When Christ shall surely come to earth again : 
Shall come in royal state, with kingly power ; 

His truth to publish and His laws maintain, 
And to Himself the people all subdue ; 

And in His peaceful and triumphant reign, 
Convert the Gentile, and recall the Jew. 

Delusive dream, though beautiful indeed j 
The danger 'neath the loveliness concealed : 

All plants which spring from Error's poisonous seed 
Their deadly fruit in season due shall yield. 

And much they err who error do oppose 

By some feared truth in borrowed colors dressed. 

Unvarnished truth shall win, that boldly goes 
Forth to the conflict at the Lord's behest. 



Watchman on Zion's wall ! to us declare 
If thou canst yet afar discern the light 

Of breaking day: what seest thou? Beware! 
The morning cometh? Cometh, too, the night. 



A CHRISTMAS POEM. 



And though the longed-for day is hastening on,— 
In prophecy foretold, in covenant sworn, — 

The dreariest watch must still precede the dawn, 
And usher in the bright Millennial morn. 



'r.' 



63 



God's Word and Spirit yet His power shall show, 
With rays life-giving to dispel sin's gloom : 

And soon in thirsty lands may waters flow ; 
And soon in desert wilds the rose may bloom. 

To Zion the redeemed returning then, 

" Glory to God," with gladsome voice shall sing ; 
While angel bands respond : " Good will to men !" 

And Heaven and earth rejoice to crown their King. 



"\V 11 AT A RT THOU DO I NT. W 1 Til 
Til V LI FE?" 

Though words at best have only power to shadow forth 

a thought, 
The strangely startling question comes with deepest 

import fraught : 
It bids the vanished "long ago/' the scones of days 

gone by, 
Again in slow and sad review to pass before the eye ; 

The bright and precious morning hours, for holy labor 

lent, 
Ami all the golden noontide too, in idle folly spent; 
Ami while behind the Western hills descends the 

evening sun. 

What art thou doing with thy lite, — when life is almost 
done ? 

What art thou doing with thy life? And if the head 

must bow 
With shame and sorrow for the past, what art thou doing 
W t 

"I 



"WHAT ART THOU DOING WITH THY LIFE ?" 65 

'Tis not enough that thou regret, and weep for wasted 

years; 
Willi earnest work not yet begun, in vain arc all thy 

tears. 
The past is gone; the present still thy gifts and power:; 

demands 

In service, to the Lord and men, of willing heart and 

hands ; 

And as the truth is thine to keep, SO time is thine to 

use- 
As He who metes it out requires, and not as thou mayst 

choose. 

What art thou doing with thy life? A deathless soul 

is thine, 
Created, in a higher sphere to live a life divine. 
The earthly house in which it dwells, to dust shall be 

brought low ; 

The soul unclothed ami homeless then, ah ! whither 

shall it go, 
When blissful immortality, bought at a fearful cost, 
Long offered, and rejected long, beyond all hope is 

lost? 
It cannot face the depths beneath; it may not look 

above ; 
Shut out forever from the ark of Everlasting love ! 



66 " WHA T AR T THOU DOING JI7 I'll THY 1. IFF f" 

What art thou doing- with thy life? Thy course is 

nearly run ; 

And if the never-failing- crown can even vet be won, 

The fleeting moments haste away ; it is unsafe to wait : 

To grasp the prize a trembling hand may be outstretched 
too late. 

Ami though, alas! the darkened eyes, the earthward- 
bending gaze, 

Must heavenward directed be when dim with length of 
days, 

Far better this than wandering on, to meet a coming 
night 

Whose gloom shall never be dispelled by beams of 
morning light. 



FAR FROM HOME. 

Hark! I hear a mournful moaning, 

And a dismal, piteous groaning, 
As the cold night blast goes wailing through the forests 
bleak and bare : 

Faded is Autumnal glory, 

While stern Winter, chill and hoary, 

In the steps of Autumn treading, 

Reigning tyrant-like, is spreading 
Over plain and hill and valley, desolation— everywhere. 

'Tis no wintry wind that chills me ; 

'Tis no mournful sound that fills me 
With a strangely solemn sadness: 'tis that thought 
to-night will roam 

Out through space so dark and dreary, 

To that fireside bright and cheery, 

Where the dear familiar faces 

Fill their old accustomed places, 
While I feel that I am missing all the warmth and light 

of home. 

6 7 



68 FAR FROM HOME. 

Though the radiant, sacred beauty, 
Halo-like encircling duty, 

Lends to it a charm which keeps me from beneath the 
sheltering dome ; 
And though pleasant faces meet me, 
And kind, loving voices greet me, 
Still from them my heart is turning, 
And with tender fondness yearning 

For the faces and the voices I would see and hear at 
home. 

* * * ******* 

Winter time upon Life's ocean ! 

And the billows in commotion, 
In the tempest wildly surging, cover my frail bark with 
foam : 

Yet I know they bear me nearer 

To that land where purer, clearer, 

Is the brilliant light above me 

Shining on the loved who love me, 
In the house of many mansions, my far-off, Eternal 
home. 



BY THE RIVER. 

why do you ask me to stay- 

in a valley of weeping, like this? 
There is rest even now for the suffering clay. 

1 can see, from the brink of the River, to-day, 

The regions of infinite bliss. 



Life's wearisome journey is o'er, 

The time of departure has come ; 
And the eyes of fond watchers shall see me no more, 
Till they gaze into mine on yon far-away shore, 

When we meet in our beautiful home. 



And yet I shall often be near, 

Though my form you can never descry. 
My footsteps all noiseless no mortal may hear, 
And the rustling of wings shall not startle the ear, 

Nor tell that a spirit is nigh. 

7 6 9 



7 o 



BY THE R!\ i:r 



In your night-time of pain I shall stand 

\\y your couch, as you stand by me now; 
And in dreams when you feel the soft touch of my hand, 
You will think the cool breezes of Heaven have fanned 
Your aching and feverish brow. 



And oft in your loneliest hours 

I shall come in low whispers of love, 
To turn your sad thoughts to the evergreen bowers, 
The roses and lilies and sweet-scented flowers, 
That bloom in the Eden above, 



Where friends and companions of old 

With Angels are walking in white, 
In the land afar off, rich with glories untold, 
Where the ransomed the " King in His beauty" behold- 

Immortality shrouded in light ! 



How strange that we mortals so cling 

To earth-life, and dread so to die ! 
The monster is vanquished and robbed of his stim 
And Death is a solemnly glorious thing, — 
A gateway to mansions on high. 



BY THE RIVER. 

Then ask me no longer to stay 

In a country of sorrow like this. 

I am ready to cross the deep Jordan to-day ; 

The immortal is longing to break from its clay, 
And mount to the dwellings of bliss. 



7* 



A LITTLE WHILE. 

The world at best is selfish, cold, and rude : 
Oft, when its empty show befits us not, 

We seek the pleasant paths of solitude, 

And wander in the quiet realms of Thought. 

There Memory, faithful to her sacred trust, 
Lifts up the heavy veil Time's hand hath cast 

O'er forms and features mouldered down to dust, 
And shows us cherished visions of the past. 

She paints bright pictures of the vanished years,- 
Perchance a face beloved in bygone days, — 

Until we dim each scene with blinding tears, 
And bid her thus no more to mock our gaze. 

Then Fancy comes, and chides us that we miss 
And mourn our lost so long, and weep alone ; 

And tells of lips as sweet we yet may kiss; 
Of hearts may beat responsive to our own. 
72 



A LITTLE WHILE. 73 

Though " Memory is the only friend of Grief," 
Why should we listen to her voice of woe ? 

Oblivion brings a sure and glad relief; 
In future bliss forget the long ago. 

But Faith and Hope with radiant brows appear, 
And greet us with such gentle tone and smile ; 

With earnest words our troubled spirits cheer, 
And bid us labor on a little while. 

They speak of Memory as a pitying friend 

Who mingles pleasure with each sad regret : 
The days of separation soon will end, 
'And so it were not well that we forget ; 

Not well to follow flitting shapes in vain ; 

Nor grasp the phantoms formed by Fancy's skill : 
Her promised joys too often give us pain, 

And deeper make a void they cannot fill. 

These shining ones point to a land more fair, 
And softly whisper, " In that world above, 

From pleasing dreams none wake to mad despair, 
And homeless hearts ne'er vainly plead for love." 

A little while ! and still we work and wait, 

And live for those whose lives our own have blest, 

Till Angels open wide the Golden gate, 
And welcome us to everlasting rest. 



U N F O R G I V E N. 

How can friend or lover ever 

Cherish bitter thoughts of wrong; 

Granting sweet forgiveness never 
Unto one repentant long? 

Pride hath bidden me so often 

Not forgive, and not forget ; 

Yet would pride and anger soften, 

Ending soon in deep regret. 

Oil, a dismal < loud of sadness 

( )vercasts my sky to-day, 
And the brightest beams of gladness 

Cannot chase the gloom away ! 

Thoughts of other days still linger, 

On my path a shade to east ; 
Memory sadly points her finger 
To a fair unclouded past, 
74 



UNFOR GIVEN. 75 

When in girlhood's sunny hour 
Life by girlhood's hope was blest ; 

As in an enchanted bower, 
Gladly found my spirit rest. 

Though no solemn vows were spoken, 

Love did well its loan repay, 
Till the spell was strangely broken, 

And life's joy was swept away. 

Then my heart, with sorrow aching, 

Told, in sorrow's plaintive tone, 
How 'twas ever bleeding, breaking, 

For the love it once had known : — 

Told this as if fondly dreaming 

Over gold that turned to dust ; 
While I was the victim seeming 

Of misguided love and trust : 

All unthinking, — not foreseeing 

How another heart could feel ; 
How that tale would wound a being 

Still devoted, true as steel. 

As in spring Love's blossoms perished, 
Fragrant, fresh with morning dew, 

All that later friendship cherished 
In my sight must wither too ! 



7 6 UN1<0RG1VI.\. 

Then I plead to be forgiven, 
]>ut my pleading was in vain; 

Hearts, united once, were riven, 
Never to unite again. 

'Tis a cruel thing to sever 

Bonds of dearest friends that live; 
'Tis unkind, unjust, to never 
Sorrow's thoughtless words forgive. 

O'er me mist)' shadows hover ; 

Memory back hath pointed long 
To an early friend and lover, 

And an unforgiven wrong. 



LOVE'S GIFTS. 

In the solemn hush at the close of day, 
I steal apart from the careless throng, 
And under the veil of the twilight gray, 
I roam in the far-off realm of Song : 
On that greenest sod, in that purest air, 
Bloom flowers of tint and fragrance rare ; 
And I pluck the fairest of all I see, 
To wreathe a garland, my Love, for thee. 

Ah, little I heed earth's joy or pain, 

As in some bright valley I rest alone, 
While beautiful fancies crowd my brain, 

And beautiful thoughts: they are not my own, 
And I know not whence they come, yet I write 
On a stainless page of snowy white, 
In the book of my heart, which closed shall be 
To others, but open, my Love, to thee ! 

There's an ocean deep in that wondrous land ; 
Its moan is a sound that I gladly hear 

77 



7 8 LOVE'S GIFTS. 

In the evening-time, on its golden strand, 

Where no other music greets my ear : 
As mystic shells, and pearls, to the shore 
The waves are washing forevermore, 
Of the treasures cast from the depths of the sea, 
I gather the richest, my Love, for thee. 

love of my womanhood ! wherefore dost thou 
Thy coming delay through these tedious years? 

The night's chill shadows creep over me now ; 

Yon cloud, floating nearer, holds showers of tears. 
My heart is so weary of waiting so long 
With gifts that it brings from the region of Song : 
The flattering world cannot win them from me ; 

1 shall give them to thee, Love, and only to thee. 



IN MEMORY'S FAIRY HALLS. 

Not dimly burns the lamp to-night 

In Memory's fairy halls, 
That gilds with such a hallowed light 

Each picture on the walls, 
Where olden scenes a freshness wear 

It thrills the heart to see ; 
Where faces fair with beauty rare, 

Are smiling down on me. 

And while I ponder here alone, 

Rich music greets my ear ; 
I list to each familiar tone 

I once so loved to hear : 
What hidden power thus voice can lend 

Unto this old-time throng, 
Till notes of friend and lover blend 

In sweet, melodious song ? 



Her magic touch let Fancy boast, 
And smile at sober Thought ; 



79 



So IN MEMORY'S FAIRY HALLS. 

The imagery that charms us most, 
Not Fancy's hand hath wrought : 

Her pencil is not skilled to trace 
A scene of bygone years ; 

Nor paint with grace each vanished face 
That here to-night appears. 

'Tis Memory to the raptured gaze 

Can thus the past unfold, 
Till form and face of other days, 

All perfect, we behold ; 
And pictured lips that deck her walls 

Breathe music soft and low ; 
Each strain that falls within her halls 

A song of long ago. 



DRIFTED APART. 

Lost, and I know not where thou art ! 
I know we change in mind and heart, 
And dearest friends will drift apart, 

Upon Time's treacherous tide ; 
And yet I dreamed that thou and I 
On waters calm, 'neath cloudless sky, 
Might onward float, forever nigh, 

Across Life's ocean wide. 

And still I mourn the luckless day 
I marked thee slowly glide away ; 
In piteous tones I bade thee stay, 

And leave me not alone : 
No answering word or look from thee 
Came through the distance back to me ; 
Only the waves of Life's deep sea 

Made melancholy moan. 

No kind farewell, no parting kiss ! 
But memory of departed bliss, 

8 81 



82 DRIFTED APART. 

A void that aches for what we miss 

From out the life and heart : 

To weary of the world's dull ways; 

To scorn alike its blame and praise, 

And weep for joys of bygone days, — 
Ah me, to drift apart ! 

I loved thee, — I who love so few ; 
I trusted thee, as women do ; 
The trustful always are the true, 

Who change not with the years. 
Some hearts are made to love in vain ; 
Some brows to ever ache with pain ; 
Some lips to sing a sad refrain j 

Some eyes are made for tears. 

I quit the busy haunts of men, 
And seek sweet solitude again, 
With friendly book and faithful pen : 

These are not lost to me, 
But, Love, I know not where thou art ! 
We change in mind, and change in heart, 
And this is why we drift apart, 

Upon Time's stormy sea. 



AFTER MANY DAYS. 

When, alone, I was musing but yesterday 

On hopes that were blighted long years before, 

And their phantoms that haunt my lonely way, 
Lo ! a stranger came to my father's door. 

My cheek turned pale, and I stood aghast, 
When he spoke my name in a friendly tone : 

" Can it be," he asked me, " that over the past 
Oblivion's shade is thus early thrown?" 

The face was strange, and the voice was strange, 
Though he sought not to wear the least disguise; 

But Time and his changes could never change 
The questioning glance of those sad gray eyes. 

"You told me," he said, "when I left you in tears, 
Though I little deemed your words were true, 

That my pride would fail ; that the coming years 
Would bring the wanderer back to you. 

S3 



g 4 AFTER MANY DA YS. 

"You knew that if time should make me wise, 
Ere manhood's prime I could understand 

How a youth may slight what a man will prize ; 
And a heart is a greater gift than a hand." 

Then he gazed on my solemn, thoughtful face; 

But no hollow cheek, and no sunken eye 
Met that searching look ; and he saw no trace 

Of sorrow, no wreck of days gone by. 



When the troubled fountain is lulled to rest, 

The stream that flows onward may deepen each day 

And the quiet calm of a passionless breast, 
Can chase the death-pallor of grief away. 

Did I dream ? would the vision vanish ? No ! 

Yet stranger than fiction the truth seemed then ; 
For the cherished hopes of the long ago, 

Were returning to crown my life again. 

To-day, as my hands press my aching brow, 
I ask of the Present, " Why give me this?" 

And the Past is unveiled before me now, 
With its joy and sorrow, its pain and bliss. 



AFTER MANY DA VS. 85 

J have turned to the Future, and longed in vain 
For the better love that it sometimes brings : 

I have forged, and broken, a fragile chain j 

And have found that friendship can wear no wings. 



And so many shadows my path have crossed, — 
So many I trusted are false and cold : — 

The bud and the bloom of my life are lost, 
And my heart is old, oh so very old ! 

And my girlhood's love ? has it come too late 
For the dew and the rose that girlhood wore? 

I know not; and softly I murmur, " Wait !" 
To the stranger who came to my father's door. 



8* 



DEAD. 

How hushed and low is every spoken word, 
While with a light and softened step we tread ! 

And not a rude and jarring sound is heard 
Within the silent chamber of the dead. 



A look of sadness rests upon each brow, — 
As if beneath a pall of settled gloom ; 

Save one, who lies in girlish sweetness now, 
And beauty shrouded for the early tomb. 

Back from our lips we crush the wail of woe, 
And strive to say, "It is the Father's will, 

And be it done !" His will is best, we know, 
But dark, rebellious thoughts disturb us still. 

Dead ! and to us the white-robed mortal brings 

The vast eternity so near to-day : 
The veil seems lifted from eternal things 

The while we gaze upon the soulless clay. 
86 



DEAD. 87 

Ah, long shall friends and kindred mourn and miss 
The face, the form, we all have loved so well ! 

And in a strange, sad, sorrowing world like this, 
The pang of parting pen nor tongue can tell. 

But he to whom Love's first fond vows were spoken, 

The pain of separation never knew ; 
The tie that bound their spirits was not broken, 

So soon he crossed Death's deep, chill river, too. 

Is it to her we bid our last adieu, 

For her alone in bitterness we weep ? 
Yet for the stranger, whom we scarcely knew ; 

Here we would bless him in his peaceful sleep. 

Back from the shadowy land where both have gone, 
Perchance to earth they nevermore can come ; 

Yet ere the resurrection morn shall dawn, 
Our souls may meet them in the spirit-home. 



THE PARTING HOUR. 

The murmur of a sad farewell, 

Disturbs the stillness of the hour, 

And softly breaks the wondrous spell 

That binds with such enchanting power. 

The bliss of freedom now is thine; 

The pain of parting only mine ; 

But pride forbids the flow of tears 

To drown the shattered hopes of years. 

At times the restless heart will range, 
A wanderer to earth's utmost end ; 

And, seemingly, in quest of change, 
Desert the dearest bosom-friend ; 

Forsake the old, the tried and true, 

Bestowing blindly on the new, 

The loving trust we gave before 

To one we call our own no more. 

Ere long the new-found joy is lost, 

And we would gladly claim our own ; 
88 



THE PARTING HOUR. 89 

But when our path again is crossed 

By one we left to mourn alone, 
We grieve to find affection fled, 
And every tender feeling dead ; 
When, like a weary, homeless dove, 
The spirit seeks the Ark of Love. 

So when some stranger heart shall prove 
As false as thine has proved to be, 

From all the wreck of changing love 
I know that thou wilt turn to me, 

And with a hopeless longing, crave 

The pure devotion that I gave, 

Before this sweet, enchanting spell 

Was broken by a sad farewell. 



WASTED YEARS. 

Few years at most remain ; 
So many have been spent in strivings vain 
After what mortals never may attain. 
"Missed" is the burden of the vanished years; 
A dreary, barren waste the Past appears, 

Seen through repentant tears. 

I often wondered why 
We idle dreamers build so very high, 
That Fancy's castles almost reach the sky : 
In some ideal fair alone we find 
Perfections which we seek in heart and mind ; 

Love is not always blind. 

One truth full well I know : 
The fane in which I worshipped long ago, 
Is fallen, shattered, in the dust laid low; 
Its beauteous imagery has passed away, 
And yet the time is not redeemed to-day ; 

Alas, 'tis lost for aye ! 
90 



WASTED YEARS. 

Then henceforth be it thine, 
Thou erring and sore-chastened heart of mine. 
To bring thy offerings to a higher shrine ; 
And should thy future life be deeds of praise, 
Still, in remembrance of thy former ways, 
Go softly all thy clays. 



9* 



THE VOICE OF SORROW. 

There are waitings of sorrow which cannot be hushed 
There are hearts which unceasingly moan ; 
And the world never sees that they daily must bear 
A cross that is hidden, a burden of care, 
The grief of a spirit whose hopes have been crushed, 
Whose wound is to others unknown. 

There are whispers of sadness that cannot be stilled ; 
To chide were both cruel and vain ; 
A heart that with anguish forever must ache, 
Yet suffer in silence, would certainly break; 
A soul that with bitterness long has been filled, 
Finds peace in the plaintive refrain. 

Alas for immortals who hopelessly sigh, 
And mournfully search evermore, 
For a dwelling on earth, for a rest, and a home ; 
Yet ever unsatisfied, restlessly roam, 
With a weary, wild longing, a piteous cry, 
For the bliss of eternity's shore ! 
92 



THE VOICE OF SORROW. 93 

Oh, seek not to hush the sad numbers that flow 
From sorrow's deep fountain of song ! 
And chide not the singer ; perchance every strain 
Gives a moment of ease in a lifetime of pain, 
Though it tells not the heart-touching tale of a woe 
Concealed from earth's pitiless throng. 



"UNGUESSED." 

Oh, say not so ! 
I guessed the painful secret long ago; 
Can tell it now — if thou dost doubt I know. 
False are my lips if they unfold 
The mournful history I hold, 
As yet untold. 

I gaze afar 
Upon a changeful, courseless, wandering star, 
And know full well what hidden causes mar 
And dim the splendor of that light, 
Which, fixed, might shine so strangely bright 
Through Life's dark night. 

Yes, I have heard, — 
In fancy, when thy spirit's deeps were stirred, — 
The midnight moan ; knew the unspoken word, 
While pride crushed back the plaintive wail 
Of sorrow's song, when lips all pale 
Would tell the tale. 
94 



" UNGUESSED." 95 

O cruel strife, 
With which some bursting hearts seem ever rife ! 
This is, indeed, "a mystery of Life." 
The thoughtless throng may not divine 
Effect or cause ; but souls like mine 
Can fathom thine ; 

Can feel thy pain, 
As aching heart, and ever-restless brain, 
In thoughtful labor seek relief in vain : 
The rude, cold world looks on the while, 
Nor sees what lurks beneath a smile 
Worn to beguile. 

O broken dream ! 
That from fair girlhood's morn shut out the beam 
Of Hope, that henceforth may not shed a gleam, 
A fitful gleam, a transient ray 
Of golden light upon a way 

So dark to-day. 

O coming years, 
To which sad eyes are looking thro* their tears, 
To see if some new star of Hope appears ! 
Come softly, sweetly lull to rest, 
Grief's surges in a troubled breast 

Whose grief I guessed ! 



BE STILL. 

Lips, that fain would speak, be still ! 
Mention naught of wrong or ill ; 
Let not one reproachful word 
By the listening throng be heard. 
Time thy tale will better tell ; 
Truth is thine, and all is well. 

Heart, be still, and make no moan ! 
Bear thy burden all alone : 
And if thou must bear it long, 
Patient be, and brave, and strong ; 
Never once the cross lay down, 
Lest thou fail to win the crown. 

Restless spirit, silent be ! 

There is One to pity thee : 

One who shame and sorrow bore, 

Sees thee crushed and wounded sore ; 

Love and sympathy are thine ; — 

His, the human and divine. 



96 



BE STILL. 

Spirit, heart, and lips, be still 
In the night of wrong and ill ! 
Morn will surely dawn, though late ; 
Waiting trust, and trusting wait : 
Time at last the truth shall tell, 
Truth is thine, and all is well. 



97 



FORGET. 

I do not say, " Forget me not," 

Lest every thought of me 
Which memory holds, comes strangely fraught 

With bitterness to thee. 
Oh, if remembrance of the past 
Can shadows on the present cast, 
Or cloud the future with regret, 
I only ask thee to forget ! 

Since Hope and Love alike have flown 

So early on Time's wing, 
To think of joy we both have known, 

To both may sorrow bring. 
No star of Hope, with splendor bright, 
Illumes for me the sky by night ; 
Love's sun, to rise no more, hath set, 
And so 'tis best that I forget. 

This is the thought that pains me now, 
When looking back to-day : 
98 



FORGET. 

Perchance in lonely sadness thou 
Dost walk a darkened way ; 
While on my path new light hath shone, 
And free and glad my heart hath grown. 
The while unloved, unloving, yet 
I can be happy and forget. 



99 



GOOD-BY. 

" Farewell !" is such a mournful word 

To speak when kindred souls must part ; 

And when Affection's fount is stirred, 

" Adieu !" falls coldly on the heart; 

With faltering accent, tear-dimmed eye, 

We breathe that sweeter word, " Good -by !" 

But yesterday my lips were dumb ; 

Chill flowed the life-tide through each vein 
Would that the parting hour had come 

Before it brought such bitter pain ! — 
Had come in days when thou and I 
Alike in love could say good-by. 

Is life a scene of chance and change, 

Formed of uncertain light and shade? 

Can one brief day our faith estrange, 

And bid earth's brightest sunlight fade? 

Pale lips, that ask in anguish, — "Why?" 

Have scarce the power to say good-by. 



GOOD-BY. IO i 



The past is buried low to-day ; 

While, gathering from a far-off shore, 
Weird phantoms haunt my shadowed way, 

And voices whisper, — " Nevermore !" 
Yet the lone spirit's wailing cry 
Shapes only one sad thought — "Good-by." 



TOO LATE. 

And this is fate ! 
My heart had grown impatient, could not wait, 
And so the longed-for message came too late ; 
Hope lingered on, through suffering and tears, 
Still crushing down the rising doubts and fears, 

For weary years. 

And then Hope fled ; 
Love's flame burned low, by fuel all unfed, 
Until the coals seemed in the ashes dead ; 
And when neglect its cruel work had wrought, 
And with estrangement wretchedness had brought. 
You heeded not. 

At last you came, 
The slighted love of other days to claim, 
And thought to find the olden faith the same ; 
But then the "might have been" could never be. 
Oh, would that you had only come to me 

When both were free ! 



TOO LATE. 103 

My spirit long 
Paid homage in the sacred fane of Song, 
Thus striving to forget life's bitter wrong : 
Fame's voice but grated harshly on an ear 
That once had heard, and gladly still would hear, 

A sound more dear. 

Yet song of mine, — 
Though sad the words that formed each measured line, — 
Brought offerings to a long-deserted shrine ; 
And then the laurel, prized but for a day, 
No longer prized, was lightly cast away, 

For Love's lost sway. 

And soon a bride, 
Before the altar, by another's side, 
With trembling lips to God and man I lied. 
For this the future must atonement make ; 
Dumb shall these lips be, for another's sake, 

Though heart should break ! 



SUMMER DAYS. 

In this sunny summer weather 
Let us roam once more together, 
Where, with light and careless footstep, oft we wandered 
long ago : 
Resting in the maple's shadow; 
Strolling through the grassy meadow ; 
Loitering by the sparkling streamlet, listening to its 
murmuring flow. 

Seek we now the distant wildwood, — 
Favorite haunt of wayward childhood — 
From the scorching sunbeams sheltered by the tangled 
boughs outspread ; 
While the breezes through them playing, 
Are with graceful motion swaying 
To and fro the leafy branches, gently bending over- 
head. 

Through the heated noontide hours, 
Oft in thickest woodland bowers, 
104 



SUMMER DAYS. Io5 

Thinking but of present pleasure, long and idly lingered 
we ; 
While the forest warblers near us 
Sang their happy songs to cheer us ; 
And the notes of wildest discord, seemed to us but 
harmony. 

And the fields are covered over 
With the scented, ripening clover, 
While the bee is busy gathering stores of sweetness 
hidden there. 
Yonder to our view discloses 
Beds of fragrant pinks and roses, 
Blooming in the fairest garden that with perfume fills 
the air. 

All their magic powers still blending, 

While alternately descending, 
Summer showers and summer sunshine earth shall bless 
and beautify. 

Harvests white await the reaping; 

Orchards golden fruit are keeping: 
Bringing every gift in season, softly summer passes by. 



NIGHT THOUGHTS. 

When Night her dusky mantle flings 
O'er Nature with a beauty grand; 

When her far-reaching sable wings 
She spreads abroad o'er sea and land 

When on a weary world she throws 
The silent spell that calls to rest, 

And bids us seek the sweet repose 
By which our laboring race is blest : 

In wonder rapt, with spell-bound eye, 
Afar through space I love to gaze, 

And in the gorgeous, star-gemmed sky 
Behold the glory Night displays. 

Of richest lore a volume then 
Is open wide from age to age ; 

While truths from an unerring pen, 

Adorn each vast, unmeasured page. 
1 06 



NIGHT THOUGHTS. 107 

Upon those pages bright and fair, 

Earth's rude, unlettered sons may look, 

And learn of One unseen, who there 
Has written in that ancient book. 

And there the men of learning find 

A lesson deeper, grander far ; 
And read a great Eternal Mind 

Revealed in every sparkling star. 

With awe profound I raise my eyes, 
When shades of night around me fall, 

And strive to look beyond the skies, 
To Him who made and governs all. 



AUTUMN DAYS. 

Autumn, clad in raiment golden, 

Comes in Summer's stead to reign ; 
Bringing to us memories olden, 

Fraught with blended joy and pain. 
Still to Summer's day of gladness 

Youth's gay fancy fondly clings ; 
While a pleasing, solemn sadness, 

Autumn's noontide splendor brings. 

O'er my lonely spirit stealing, 

With the old-time bitterness, 
Comes that deeply-mournful feeling, 

Words are feeble to express. 
Autumn's chilly winds are sweeping, 

And his blighting footsteps tread 
O'er a shrouded loved one, sleeping 

In the City of the Dead. 

When the Summer green had faded — 
In the days that come no more, 
1 08 



A UTUMN DA VS. 

And when darker tints had shaded 
Richer robes that Nature wore, 

Then she loved so well to wander 
Through the field or forest shade : 

Now she treads the " over yonder," 
Where no earth-born beauties fade. 

When the forests shed their glory, 

And the fallen leaves grow sere, 
Telling just the same sad story 

Told by Autumn every year, 
Then we feel that all we cherish 

Soon must meet the sure decay ; 
Everything we love must perish — 

Fade, as fallen leaf, away. 

Mother dear, my feet are weary 

On the threshold of life's prime; 
And my path is strangely dreary, 

As in latest Autumn time. 
Withering blight and desolation, 

Sorrow's flood of falling tears, 
Stretch between our separation, 

Fill the measure of my years. 

Mother, in celestial bowers 

Is there naught but fragrant bloom ? 
10* 



109 



no A UTUMN DA YS. 

Does no Death-frost touch the flowers 
In the world beyond the tomb ? 

How the lone, and grieved in spirit, 
Look afar to yon bright strand, 

Waiting, longing to inherit 
Life's eternal Summer land ! 



NEARER HOME. 

Again behind the hills the sun 

Is sinking in the West : 
The journey of the day is done, 

It is the hour of rest. How sweet 

In quiet hope to rest ! 

The distance from Faith's sight may hide 

At times that stately dome, 
Yet we can say, each eventide, 
" A day's march nearer home." What joy 

To pilgrims travelling home ! 

The dear ones who have gone before, 

Once trod this weary road ; 
But now their footsteps roam no more 

Far from their fixed abode. And we 

Press on to that abode. 

While from the City built above, 
Our sainted friends look down, 

in 



! , 2 NEARER HOME. 

And view, with tender, watchful love, 
Our race to win the crown, — that prize 
Before us set, Life's crown. 

And some of us perchance have spent 
The number of our years, 

And for the last time pitch our tent, 
To rest from toil and tears, — to wake 
Beyond earth's toil and tears. 



THE PASSING YEARS. 

So fade the years ! 
So vanish joyous smiles and bitter tears ! 
Only in memory live our hopes and fears. 
Thus, since the earth's first morning dawn, 
The circling years have come and gone, 
And time rolls on. 

Its waters bear 
On their wide flood full many a weight of care, 
And many a golden dream and vision fair, 
To bury in an ocean vast. 
A lingering farewell look we cast, 
Then all is past. 

There is a clime 
Whose early grandeur stands unchanged, sublime, 
Unmarred by any ravages of Time : 
A new Creation seems that place, 
Where age upon a youthful face 

Has left no trace. 

i*3 



1I4 THE PASSING YEARS. 

No wintry hours 
There follow Autumn's withered leaves and flowers 
Eternal Summer beauty clothes the bowers, 
And threatening tempests never rise 
To dim the beaming, tearless eyes, 
Beyond the skies. 

Evil and few 
Our earthly years. We bid the Old adieu, 
And, as we gladly welcome in the New, 
Look forward with expectant eye : 
The future holds a brighter sky 

Than days gone by. 



THE JOYS OF OLD. 

In the lonely path of some vanished pleasure, 

Our spell-bound footsteps would linger long ; 
And the wayside grave of some buried treasure, 

Too oft is the theme of our mournful song. 
The harp and the voice from a slumber of sadness 
Awake not to numbers of musical gladness, 
But the strain that is sung, and the tale that is told, 
Are a solemn dirge to the joys of old. 

We love the dark wrappings of gloom that enfold us, — 

Sad Memory's mysterious thraldom of pain. 
Strange captives, to cling to the fetters that hold us, 

Forever refusing to sever the chain ! 
From pleasure to-day, and sweet hope for to-morrow, 
We turn to the past with a burden of sorrow, 
Spurn joys that the present and future may hold, 
While we idly grieve for the joys of old. 

And so to the tomb by the wayside returning, 
Still scorning the good that life brings us to-day, 

115 



n6 THE JOYS OF OLD. 

The spirit grows wild with a passionate yearning 

For visions of beauty that faded away. 
We weep for the first blighted buds of the morning, 
Nor see the rich roses the noontide adorning. 
Does the bloom of the Summer before us unfold, 
'Tis veiled by the pall of the joys of old. 

Far better than sing of these memories olden, 

The harp should be silent, the lips should be dumb. 

The present is joyous, the future is golden 
With bountiful harvest of blessings to come. 

Then let our glad song be of hopes that we cherish ; 

Of fruit that will ripen, though blossoms must perish ; 

Of treasures that Time, robed in dust and mould, 

Can never entomb with the joys of old. 



THINGS FOR REMEMBRANCE. 

If our eyes, the good beholding, 

Were to evil only blind, 
More to praise, and less to censure, 

Doubtless we should daily find. 
Are there none of all around us 

Worthy of our love and trust ? 
Pride too often sits in judgment, 

And the sentence is unjust. 

Many a time a thoughtless error 

We account a bitter wrong, 
And in sullen, silent sorrow 

Over it are brooding long, 
Knowing not we to another 

Thus are giving keener pain ; 
That the history, fairly written, 

Shows for us a darker stain. 

If we on each page of memory 
Noted words and actions kind, 

ii 117 



l8 THINGS FOR REMEMBRANCE. 

Made no record of a grievance 
Ever in the book of mind, 

Other lives would seem far fairer, 
Read in every brighter line ; 

And the light to them imparted, 
On our lonely lives would shine. 

From earth's weaknesses and follies 

None are altogether free. 
Frail and human are the noblest, — 

Frail and human too, are we. 
Clearer eyes than ours are looking, 

And the pen of truth may write 
Much to shame and to condemn us, 

Hidden yet from mortal sight. 



A MESSAGE. 

friend, whose tender, pitying love, in time of deep 

distress, 
Dawned on my darkly-shadowed path, to comfort and 
to bless ! 

1 miss the sunshine of thy smile, I miss the words of 

cheer 
That charmed away the lingering pain, and checked the 

coming tear ; 
I miss the happy, hopeful mood, the earnest, trusting 

life, 
That to my own imparted strength to brave the outward 

strife. 
My spirit makes a plaintive moan, and cannot silent 

be, 
But cries: " This is to be alone !" when thus estranged 

from thee. 

119 



120 A MESSAGE. 

Oh, hated whispering of wrong, on cold suspicion's 
breath, 

That came to friendship with the chill of fast approach- 
ing death ! 

Love answered: " 'Tis a little thing;" but unrelent- 
ing pride, 

With injured look, yet haughty mien, put each fond 
plea aside. 

Since then we walk apart as those who know each other 
not, 

As if the record of the past were buried and forgot ; 

At memory of the olden trust, at mention of thy name, 

I bow me to the very dust for sorrow and for shame. 

And trembling fingers on this page, in burning words 
would write, 

And give a message to the world, that it may meet thy 
sight ; 

To kindle in thy breast once more the embers smoulder- 
ing low, 

And wake anew the dying flame, to purer, brighter 
glow. 

Forgive, that faith, when sorely tried, too soon to doubt 
gave way ; 

Forgive the pride that would not brook the error of a 
day; 



A MESSAGE. 1 21 

Forgive the thought, tho' vague — half-guessed : to 

pardon shall be thine ; 
The blame alone with me must rest : atonement shall 

be mine. 

The hue of health is on the cheek so pale a year 

ago, 
And in their wonted course to-day life's quickened 

currents flow : 
I need thee, not my griefs and pains, — those vanished 

ills, — to bear ; 
I need thee now, the happiness of joy and hope to 

share. 
The tint would deepen on my cheek, if thou that cheek 

wouldst kiss ; 
And lighter, gladder, beat my heart, to hear the voice 

I miss ; 
And clearer would the sunlight stream from yonder 

azure sky, 
And earth to me would fairer seem, sweet friend, if 

thou wert nigh. 

Perchance it cannot be with us as in the bygone 
days; 

Our paths must henceforth lie apart ; we tread in dif- 
ferent ways. 



I22 A MESSAGE. 

We may no more together sit within the house of 

prayer, 
Nor spend another holy day with those who worship 

there. 
Yet, if thou wilt, we may be friends, though time and 

space divide ; 
For hearts can love, and hands can clasp, across the 

ocean wide ; 
And shall affection speak in. vain, that strongly pleads 

with thee, 
While waves between us darker roll, and deeper than 

the sea? 



A LOST LOVE. 

If the lips would oftener tell 

The feelings of the heart, 
Not so many would bid a cold farewell, 
Who in silent solitude lonely dwell, 

And love, and walk apart. 

An echo, soft and low, 

That no one else can hear, 
A tender tone that so well I know, 
Comes wafted down from the " long ago, ! 

With its memories strangely dear. 

Like a picture dimmed by years, 

Seen faintly and far away, 
A phantom form to my sight appears, 
And it seems to float on a mist of tears, 

In the evening twilight gray. 

A settled gloom hath spread 
O'er my spirit a heavy pall, — 



123 



124 



A LOST LOVE. 

The shadow dark of a joy that fled ; 
For the light on life's early pathway shed, 
Hath vanished beyond recall. 

'Twere better to smile and sing, 

Than weep over fair hopes crossed ; 
And better to trust that the future may bring 
To the empty heart some more precious thing 
Than the love forever lost. 



FORGIVEN. 

Like a burst of melody from Heaven, 

Sweeter than the earth-born sounds we hear, 

So the music of that word, — " Forgiven !" 
Softly fell upon my raptured ear. 

Vanished then the burden of life's sadness, 
All unswept away by floods of tears ; 

While the golden sunlight of Love's gladness, 
With a halo crowned the coming years. 

As we feel the near approach of summer, 
Ere spring's tender bloom hath passed away, 

Something heralded the welcome comer 

Whom my heart went forth to meet that day. 

Seemed I then like one enchanted, dreaming, 
When I heard the old-time step draw nigh, 

Saw again the old-time love-light beaming 
In the softened lustre of that eye. 

125 



126 FORGIVEN. 

Then the dreary loneliness was over, 

Which in girlhood's morn my path had crossed 

Time had thus restored the friend and lover 
Whom so hopelessly I mourned as lost. 

Time at last had buried low, forever, 

All that separated us so long, 
And the future should be darkened never 

By the shadow of unpardoned wrong. 

Oh, if memory e'er repeat the story 

Of the years gloom shrouded in the past, 

'Twill the radiance of a richer glory 
On the fair, unclouded present cast ! 

Like a strain of melody from Heaven 
Whose undying echoes ne'er depart, 

I shall hear again the word, — " Forgiven !" 
Spoken to my chastened life and heart. 



SUNSET. 

Upward still I journey slowly, 
As the shadows lengthen fast, 

To a land of sunlight holy, 

Where no evening shades are cast ; 

Noontide glory 
There forevermore will last. 

See the sun in splendor shining 
On the hilltops of the West ! 

Grandly thus the day declining, 
Brings the time of slumber blest ; 

While earth's weary 
Long to find its peaceful rest. 

Life's high, western hills are shading 

Solemnly the path I go ; 
Sunset beauty too is fading, 
Fading now the golden glow ; 

Evening twilight 
Soon will cover all below. 

127 



28 SUNSET. 

Yet with joy and not with sorrow 

Do I hail the eventide, — 
Herald of a bright to-morrow 

On the fair eternal side ; 

Through the darkness, 

Fearlessly my soul shall glide. 

Some I love are over yonder, 

Basking in a fadeless ray, 
And with them I fain would wander 

Through the realms of endless day ; 
Since they left me 

Mine has been a lonely way. 

Night comes on ; but, not regretting 
That the day of life is done, 

Calmly I behold the setting 
Of the distant, sinking sun ; 

Glad in spirit 
That the race is nearly run. 



A SUMMER REVERIE. 

The gentle summer breezes bear 
On their soft wings a rich perfume, 

Fresh from the fragrant gardens where 
The sweetest roses bud and bloom. 

All Nature wears a smiling face, 
As, robed anew in gorgeous dress, 

With queenly air and modest grace, 
She blushes in her loveliness. 

The birds in yonder forest now 
In gladsome chorus blithely sing ; 

And from the waving, leafy bough 
Ascends their simple offering. 

Fair childhood, full of playful glee, 

The meadow roams, and woodland wild ; 

With merry heart, and step as free, 
As well become a happy child. 

12 129 



13° 



A SUMMER REVERIE. 

And e'en old age — grown young again — 
By brook and orchard strays once more. 

And feels as youthful now as when 
He trod their paths in days of yore. 

And thus for all the summer hours 
Are yielding pleasure far and near ; 

And song of birds and breath of flowers 
With gladness crown the passing year. 



FARE THEE WELL. 

TO K. C. H. 

•Fare thee well ! 'Tis sadly spoken ; 
More than earth-born ties are broken ; 
Fraught with bitterness of feeling, 

Comes the thought that we must part. 
More than friendship's fetters hold us ; 
Spirit-links of love enfold us ; 
Soul to soul can cling more closely 

Than the fondest heart to heart. 

'Tis the same blest hope that cheers us, 
'Tis one common faith endears us, 
As we on the heavenward journey 

Meet and mingle day by day ; 
While a sense of isolation 
Ever follows separation, 
And we long for sweet communion 

With the loved ones, by the way. 



1 32 FARE THEE WELL. 

Faith will live — can never perish ; 
And the blissful hope we cherish, 
Sheds a gleam of golden sunlight 

Through the gathering mist of tears. 
Israel's Shepherd still shall feed us 
In His pastures green, and lead us 
By the quiet, crystal waters 

Where we walked in bygone years. 

Fare thee well ! but not forever : 
Neither time nor space can sever 
Bonds that evermore shall bind us, 

Though apart our footsteps roam. 
Fare thee well, until we gather 
In the mansions of our Father, 
Where, with Christ, our Elder Brother, 

We shall ever dwell at home. 



TO MINNIE J. OWREY. 

Thy tuneful harp, with heavenly strain, 
Enchants and holds us spell-bound still : 

And thou canst please, and thou canst pain, 
And ever move us at thy will. 

Thou art a bird of sweeter song 

Than e'er hath sung in leafy shade; 

The heart-chords touched will vibrate long, 
And echo music thou hast made. 

But may we only hear thee sing? 

We would behold the songstress too ; 
Oh, stay thy flight, oh, droop thy wing, 

Nor always soar beyond our view ! 

Must we, who each sad note have heard, 
Still listen to thy plaintive lays, 

And never see our singing bird, 
And never on its plumage gaze? 

12* 133 



134 TO MINNIE J. OWREY. 

We judge the fountain by the stream, 
And seldom find the judgment wrong ; 

And I, in Fancy's pleasing dream, 
Thy picture painted from thy song. 



'Twas fondest feeling traced each line, 
And stamped the image on my heart, 

And tells me that 'tis only thine, 
Portraying truly what thou art. 

'Tis thus in mental vision we 
Oft paint a spirit-form divine; 

And every touch must perfect be, 

And grace and beauty mark each line. 

So thou art pictured in my mind, 
A fair ideal, cherished there ; 

And even yet I hope to find 
The real just as bright and fair. 

And canst thou, by some sweet refrain, 
Awake emotions warm and deep, 

Then turn away in cold disdain, 

Nor strive what thou hast won to keep? 



TO MINNIE J. OWREY. I35 

One debt we owe alike to all ; 

But Heaven grant I never may 
Affection into being call, 

And not with double love repay. 

And what were life, and what were we, 
Uncrowned by Love's rich diadem ? 

The world would drear and cheerless be, 
Without the precious, priceless gem. 

Yet, if unheeded, this appeal 

Shall be to thee a last adieu ; 
Charmed by thy song I still may feel 

'Tvvere bliss to know and love thee too. 



A LETTER. 

TO DORA J. CAMPBELL. 

In the silence of my chamber, where I sit and muse 

alone, 
While the evening's dusky shadows o'er the earth are 

softly thrown, — 
In the hour between night's darkness and the setting of 

the sun, 
When we love to hold communion with some cherished, 

absent one, — 
I recall a tender message which in bygone days you 

penned ; 
Often hath my heart responded to its pleasant words, 

my friend ; 
For our thoughts send back the answer when our fingers 

fail to write ; 
But the willing hand with pleasure shall perform its 

part to-night. 
136 



A LETTER. I37 

When your letter came it found me weak and weary, 

sick and sad; 
But each loving, restful sentence seemed to cheer, and 

make me glad ; 
I forgot all present suffering in remembrance of the 

day 
That your presence, like a sunbeam, shed its radiance 

on my way. 
Then my warm, confiding nature stood in doubt afar 

from you, 
Fearing I too soon might trust you, soon to learn you 

were untrue ; 
And I watched the charming stranger, while I reasoned 

thus: "If she 
To another can be faithless, she can be as false to 

me." 



If 'tis gold, we know the metal, when the acid is 

applied, 
'Neath the nitric drop will sparkle : so I thought you 

could be tried ; 
And the test but served to prove you all I wished or 

hoped to find, — 
Kind, devoted, faithful, truthful, — pure alike in heart 

and mind. 



138 



A LETTER. 



Then I took your proffered friendship, gladly then your 

name enrolled 
On the list of few and chosen, who cannot be bought 

and sold ; 
Told you of life's joy and sorrow, of the sunlight and 

the shade ; 
Knowing one would not betray me, who no other had 

betrayed. 



As we cross Time's troubled ocean, 'mid its wrecks of 

life and heart, 
Few there be who sail together, while the many drift 

apart. 
When the sea is calm beneath us, and the sky above is 

clear, 
Nor the moan of coming tempest hath been caught by 

any ear ; 
While our frail and buoyant vessels o'er the smooth 

blue surface glide, 
Dream we not of separation, floating onward side by 

side ; 
Yet the storm may overtake us, ere we gain the distant 

shore, 
And the surging waves divide us, — till our life-ships 

meet no more. 



A LETTER. 1 39 

Strangely, sadly do I wonder, as to you I write, dear 

friend, 
What of storm and calm await us ere for both the 

voyage end ; 
What of good and ill is hidden for us in the future 

years. 
We can safely trust our anchor, in the storm of doubts 

and fears. 
If the rush of wind and waters, ere the changing sea 

be crossed, 
In a darkened day divide us, each to other seeming 

lost, 
We may meet with greater gladness on the happy shores 

of Light. 
But my solemn letter lengthens; darkness deepens; 

so, good-night ! 



AN ANGEL VISITANT. 

Respectfully dedicated to 

MRS. m. m. w. 

There is something sweet in the solemn thought — 

If dim and dull be our eye and ear, 
There are angels nigh when we know it not, 

When we see no form, and no voice we hear. 

And yet there is one that often comes 

To our dwellings here from the land of the blest, 
And we know when he enters our earthly homes, 

But never a welcome we give our guest. 

'Tis the Angel of Death, from the regions above 
Sent down to some friend that we cherish, to bring 

A message of peace from the City of Love, 
A bidding to stand in the court of the King. 
140 



AN ANGEL VISITANT. 



141 



'Tvvas a little ago that he entered your door : 
He came in the calm and the still of the night, 

And with soft wing outspread he was hovering o'er 
The couch of a loved one when morn shed its light. 



'&• 



You saw not, indeed, his white wings gently wave 
Above your bright boy as they fanned him to sleep, 

But the signs of his presence he silently gave, 

And that vigil you knew was the last you would keep. 

With the fervent petition sent up to God's throne, 
As you watched o'er the dear one by Death's river- 
side, 

You asked the kind Shepherd who cares for His own, 
To bear him safe over the waters so wide. 

But the spirit, enraptured, was gazing afar, 

And across the dark stream could that City behold 

Whose portals already were standing ajar, 

As the curtain of Time from his vision was rolled. 

"Pray again?" No, that soul hath no need for your 
prayer : 

Lo ! the death-seal is set on the beautiful brow ; 
And no longer he needs the devotion and care 

Of the brother whose arms are enfolding him now. 



1 42 AN ANGEL VISITANT. 

And call not his name, for he hears you no more ; 

From those lips, cold and pale, never answer may 
come ; 
A Brother hath called from yon far-away shore, 

And welcomed him there to a happier home. 

What think you? From heavenly mansions to-day 
Are fond, earnest eyes looking anxiously down, 

To see if we steadfastly walk in the way, 
To see if we patiently strive for the crown ? 

Then let us "be sober, and watch unto prayer," 
And be ready whenever our summons is given ; 

And may the departed, awaiting us there, 

Be links of a chain that shall bind us to Heaven ! 



TO THE MEMORY OF REV. McNARY 
FORSYTH. 

To the world of immortals concealed from our sight, 
Thy spirit, O loved one, hath taken its flight ! 
Like a captive from prison thy soul is set free, 
And earth's broken fetters have fallen from thee. 

Thy conflict is ended ; thy labors are o'er ; 
Thy voice shall proclaim the glad tidings no more: 
The flock thou didst keep is left shepherdless soon ; 
Thy life-work is finished ere yet 'tis life's noon. 

The Shepherd of Israel ever knows best ; 
He measured the toil, and provided the rest ; 
And why should we marvel ? His wisdom could see 
It was most for His glory, and better for thee. 

To the land of the stranger the message came down 
That called thee away from the cross to the crown ; 
That bade thee inherit the faithful's reward, 
And enter, so early, the joy of thy Lord. 

i43 



144 



REV. MCNARY FORSYTH. 



Perchance thou ere this hast beheld with delight 
The King in His beauty — that wonderful sight ! 
And the land afar off, still by mortal untrod, — 
The house with its mansions, the dwelling of God. 

And thou art in Heaven ! and we, on the way, 
Are weeping because of thine absence to-day; 
But the tears of affection are all that we shed, — 
The tears that must fall as we mourn for the dead. 

Yet with sweet satisfaction we think of the time 
We shall meet our best friends in a heavenly clime ; 
We shall greet them with joy in their happy abode, 
And together sit down in the kingdom of God. 

And still, as our loved go before us, will come 

A strange aching of heart, a deep longing for home ; 

And ever the blissful assurance is given 

Of meeting, and knowing, and loving in Heaven. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

The voice of mirth will hush a while, 
And sorrow's shadow chase the smile 

From many a radiant, happy face; 
For Death his icy finger now 
Hath pressed upon a loved one's brow, 

And sealed it with mysterious grace. 

How softly low the words are said, 

With whispered reverence, " He is dead !" 

Ah, yes ! it means so much to die, 
When from its tenement of clay 
The deathless soul is called away, 

The distant spirit-world to try. 

It means each tender tie to break, 
And hearts all desolate to make, 

Perchance till present life shall end ; 
Again it means Love's moans and tears ; 
To mourn and miss through coming years 

The husband, father, and the friend. 

'3* 145 



146 IN MEMO R I AM. 

Adieu, dear "hermit of the hills !" 
Thy honored name in memory fills 

An ever-consecrated spot. 
Not idly do we speak to-day, 
The while in parting grief we say 

That name shall never be forgot. 

And what if other lips than mine 
Tell better than in measured line 

Of one well known and loved so long ? 
Thou wouldst not scorn the offering 
Which later friendship yearns to bring, — 

The tribute of a humble song. 

Thy ready pen hath left behind 
The treasures of a gifted mind, 

A noble and a generous heart. 
Thy life and work which show thy worth, 
And strains that thou hast sung on earth, 

Tell what thou wast, and what thou art. 

The men who put their trust in creeds, 
Whose faith leads not to holy deeds, 

Nor purifies the life from sin ; 
Who ne'er beheld with thy clear view 
The God of grace and Nature too, 

May miss the crown they see thee win. 



IT IS WELL. 

" It is well !" Let the words in submission be spoken : 
Both mercy and judgment are seen in God's dealing ; 

And hearts that are wounded, and hearts that are broken 
May look to Him ever for comfort and healing. 

It is well, though in sadness we sit and we ponder, 
With hearts that are aching, and eyes that are weep- 
ing, 
For the spirit awake to its bliss over yonder, 

And the clay in the churchyard so peacefully sleep- 
ing. 

It is well ; but these partings are so fraught with sorrow ! 

And stronger than death are the ties they would sever, 
Could we look not beyond to the golden to-morrow 

Of Love's sweet reunion forever and ever. 

And what if we now, through death's dark-shadowed 
portals, 
With sin-clouded vision are dimly beholding 

i47 



i 4 8 IT IS WELL. 

That mother, brief while in the home of immortals, 
In her arms the last child of affection enfolding ! 

To child and to mother a short separation ; 

But yesterday parted, to-day reunited ; 
The thought gives us joy in our strange desolation, 

While we miss the frail blossom that death's blast 
hath blighted. 

It is well with the child : it is meet that our Father 
Should take when He pleaseth the loved ones who 
love us ; 

When seemeth Him best should the fair flowers gather, 
And place in the Paradise blooming above us. 

Is it well with the mourners, so earnestly pleading, 
" Oh, show to us why Thou art with us contending?" 

Ah, the veil on the hearts that are sore-pierced and 
bleeding ! 
But God sees alike the beginning and ending. 



TO THE MEMORY OF REV. T. A. 
S P R O U L L. 

Hushed be the song of rejoicing and gladness : 
Zion, lament for thy fallen to-day ! 

Send forth a requiem fraught with the sadness 
Felt when the righteous are taken away. 

Lost to the Church, in his manhood's rich glory, 
Fresh with youth's dew, in life's earliest prime. 

Silent the lips are that told the sweet story 
Published to earth in the fulness of time. 

Gone, when the truth is assailed and forsaken, 
Error's dark paths with such eagerness trod : 

Lo, when the walls and the bulwarks are shaken, 
Built to defend the fair City of God ! 

Forward the flood of delusion is sweeping, 
Spreading destruction as onward it rolls, 

While earnest watchers are patiently keeping 
Long, prayerful vigils o'er perishing souls. 

149 



T 5° 



REV. T. A. SPROULL. 



Heard we the cry that to Heaven ascended : 
Heard we the heart-broken wail for the dead ; 

Who will watch over the flock that he tended — 
Care for the souls that he nurtured and fed ? 

Head of the Church ! from Thy high habitation, 
Hear Thou the suppliant voice of their woe. 

Deep is the prayer of the wild lamentation 
Chanted when Israel's faithful lie low. 

Heed the bereft in their piteous pleading ; 

Heal the sad breach by the Death Angel made : 
Bind up the hearts that are wounded and bleeding, 

Walk with Thine own through the gloom of grief's 
shade. 

Turn Thou their mourning to joy, that the burden 
Borne by a loved one, so soon is laid down : 

Say to them : " After the labor, the guerdon ; 
After the conflict, the victor's bright crown." 



TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LIZZIE. 

Oh the happy, careless children ! And their voices 
pain me so ; 

Yet to me their mirth was music not so very long 
ago. 

Now their gladness only grieves me. Somehow every- 
thing is changed. 

Can we, even from the children, turn away, by grief 
estranged ? 

While the power of loving lingered — love was lost in 

bygone days, 
And my heart so empty, homeless, wandered through 

life's lonely ways — 
Then a fair-haired, bright-eyed infant, as it wept and 

as it smiled, 
Won the love a childless woman seldom gives to any 

child. 

151 



I5 2 TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LIZZIE. 

Over her I watched through childhood, counting one 

by one the years ; 
Called her mine, and on her lavished love and care, 

and prayers and tears ; 
Watched the war of good with evil, in the strange 

unequal strife, — 
Good, that would uproot the ill that sin hath sown in 

human life. 

And when younger baby faces with new light the 

household blest, 
Still to me the first-born ever was the dearest and the 

best. 
And I felt that she was missing needed kindness, 

wonted care, 
With her earnest nature craving more than such a 

common share. 

Early had we marked the rose-tint from her cheek 

begin to fade ; 
Dreaming not the fearful progress slow and sure disease 

had made : 
When the summer sun was pouring on the earth his 

burning ray, 
On a fevered couch our darling, wan and wasted, dying 

lay ! 



TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LIZZIE. 153 

Warm devotion, true and tender, with untiring patience 

then 
Strove to nurse the little sufferer back to life and health 

again ; 
Still we kept the midnight vigil, noting every moaning 

breath, 
While we saw her slowly sinking in the solemn sleep 

of death. 

In our dark, deep sorrow sent we heavenward a plead- 
ing cry : 

"Saviour ! guide our dear one safely to a better home 
on high ; 

Thou of flesh and soul Creator, guard the ever-precious 
clay, 

Keep the disembodied spirit till the Resurrection-day." 

Oh, the children's voices pain me, though my name 
they fondly call ! 

On my ear their thoughtless accents with a mournful 
meaning fall. 

Who shall miss the absent loved one, — walking from 
the world apart, 

Like the lonely, childless woman, with an empty, home- 
less heart? 



14 



PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 

I shed no tears, — no more regretful tears, — 

For all the withered buds of spring's bright day, 

Nor longer weep that girlhood's gladsome years 
Have glided, like a passing dream, away. 

I heave no sighs, — no more heart-broken sighs, — 
For all the hopes and joys that faded fast, 

Nor longer send to Heaven complaining cries, 
When memory to the present brings the past. 

The bliss of love, requited love, I know ; 

Its deepest disappointment early knew. 
They came and went, as shadows come and go ; 

Mine was the sunlight, mine the shadow, too. 

Wisdom can see the end ; and Wisdom knew 
Too much I valued things of transient worth. 

To bring eternal things before my view, 
She blighted first the fairest hopes of earth. 
154 



PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. I55 

Then showed a cross, — the cross that I must bear, — 
Nor yet when weary, way-worn, lay it down ; 

And said it must be so, if I would wear 
In after-time a never-fading crown. 

I took the cross, — the cross made mine, — with dread ; 

To all life's fleeting pleasures bade adieu ; 
To bear a burden, and a path to tread, 

Unborne, untrodden, only by the few. 

I thought the way a lonely, cheerless way, 
The cross too heavy to be always borne : 

One who hath seen the dearest hopes decay 
Must ever to the past look back — and mourn ! 

There came a change, and oh, what happy change ! 

I scarce know when it came, and know not how ; 
'Tis like some mystery both glad and strange, — 

The cross seems light, the way not lonely, now. 

And buds, rich buds, beginning now to ope, 
And full-blown roses, on my path are strewn ; 

Love's roses these, and those the buds of Hope, 
Fairer than all that once I called my own. 

A voice, a low and tender voice, I hear, 
That whispers of a future home, and rest ; 

It comes like music wafted to my ear, 

On gentle winds from far-off countries blest. 



156 PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 

Sweet home ! sweet rest ! My home and rest are there, 
And there the friends I loved so long and well ; 

With them the many mansions I shall share, 
With them in Paradise forever dwell. 

One Friend, of friends the best, I too shall see, — 
At mention of His very name shall bow, — 

The Friend who gives eternal life to me, 

The blood-bought crown that decks the immortal 
brow. 

And so the past is not a mourned-for past ; 

The present hath its streams of pleasure pure; 
The perfect bliss the future holds will last 

When earth and Time no longer shall endure. 



THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 

As our steps are heavenward tending, 
Oft some rugged steep ascending, 
Ever painfully and slowly 

Journey we to regions blest ; 
Up from valleys dark and dreary 
Climbing, footsore, faint and weary, 
Till we reach a summit holy, 

Where at last we safely rest. 

There, by no sad memories haunted, 

Freely range we realms enchanted ; 

From that peace-crowned mount reviewing 

All the cares and toils of Time. 
Through the world's weird, winding mazes, 
Down the wondering spirit gazes 
On an eager throng, pursuing 

Folly's ways in life's full prime. 

Lofty, noble manhood, grasping 
After painted toys, and clasping 

14* iS7 



158 THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 

Fancy's pictures fair, that perish 
Ere the closing of the day : 

Blindly following fleeting pleasure ; 

Hoarding Mammon's sordid treasure; 

Spurning lasting gifts, to cherish 

What the wind may sweep away. 

Prizing still the worthless token 
Of a plighted faith now broken ; 
Idly mourning over letters 

Penned by love in early years; 
While, some better thing refusing, 
With a servile spirit choosing 
To be bound with fragile fetters, 

And to weep unmanly tears. 

Yet as strange, perchance, is woman 
Turning from the weak and human, 
Not because she scorns the real, 

Bowing at an empty shrine ; 
To an idol fondly clinging, 
And the purest homage bringing ; 
Little dreaming her ideal 

Is the perfect, the divine. 

When she sees a presence going 
From her life, a shadow throwing 



THE WAY OF THE WORLD. I59 

On her pathway, that must banish 
All the sunlight from her heart, 

Still she loves him as she loved him 

Ere unworthy she had proved him ; 

Hope and trust together vanish : 
Love cannot so soon depart. 

Hearts have each a vale of weeping, 
Where, grief's lonely vigil keeping, 
Oft they fear that no to-morrow 

E'er will dawn upon their sight. 
While they moan that midnight lingers, 
Radiant Morn, with rosy fingers, 
Gently lifts the cloud of sorrow, 

Softly floods the vale with light. 

Yet a wail goes up forever 

From the restless souls, who never 

Learn in life that every mortal 

On a holy height may stand, 
Far above earth's ceaseless sighing, 
Dread of living, fear of dying ; 
Catching, through its shining portal, 

Glimpses of the better land. 



UNHEEDED VOICES. 

Voices, sad and low, are speaking to the heart and 

hands to-day, 
Pleading that earth's cares and labors for a while be 

put away. 
Love and friendship too are chiding, — they have been 

neglected long, — 
Waiting for a word, a token ; for a letter, or a 

song. 

Truly honest work is holy : food and raiment must be 

sought ; 
Yet the higher, nobler nature still may claim a sober 

thought. 
If the body, cold and hungry, of its wants should once 

complain, 
Idle hands are sometimes better than an idle, starving 

brain. 
1 60 



UNHEEDED VOICES. 161 

And I hear the solemn voices ; feel the kind reproof 

they give ; 
Only toiling, eating, sleeping, — what a life is this to 

live ! 
Crowding out the finer feelings; dwarfing soul and 

heart and mind ; 
Surely sinking to the level of the lowest of mankind. 

Oh, there is an upward rising, mounting on aspiring 

wings ; 
Afterward an abject creeping in the dust of meaner 

things ; 
This for one but lately looking with an eye of keenest 

scorn, 
On a soul to sense in bondage, and of strength and 

beauty shorn ! 

Duller grow the ears of hearing, dimmer yet the dark- 
ened eyes ; 

And the world's great need — and ours — still unheeded, 
sadly cries. 

Is there none to pause and wonder what the end of 
this may be, 

What the future may be bringing to the busy world — 
and me? 



LIFE'S EVENTIDE. 

One by one the days are swiftly gliding 

Backward in their noiseless, ceaseless flight ; 

One by one the years are ever hiding 

In the past, from all save Memory's sight. 

Often, in the twilight of the even, 

Dreamily we sit and gaze afar, 
Ere for us the distant dome of Heaven 

Hath been gilded by a radiant star. 

And in childlike mood we watch, and wonder 
If yon gorgeous, outstretched veil of blue 

Were but lifted up, or rent asunder, 

What new glories mortal eye could view. 

Yet, as tremblingly we near Time's curtain, 

None who might would draw aside the folds 
Which conceal from us the dim uncertain 
That a hidden future always holds. 
162 



LIFE'S EVENTIDE. ^ 

Better far we love to look behind us, 
And recall the things have passed away; 

Thus life's evening twilight comes to find us 
Wandering over youth's eventful day. 

As the past before us seems outspreading, 
Close at hand each vanished scene appears, 

Till the early dawn is calmly shedding 

Pale, sweet beams upon the clustered years. 

So through cloudless realms of fairest morning 
Soars the soul on Fancy's tireless wing, 

Caring not to heed the timely warning 

Which the solemn, deepening shadows bring. 

May we, ere the dew, all chill, descending, 
Tells the near approach of .darkest night, 

Hear the promise, as the day is ending, 
Lo, "at evening-time it shall be light !" 



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